


Blame it on the Alligator

by ainm



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, Humor, M/M, challenge, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainm/pseuds/ainm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 'Hurt, Comfort, Reptiles, & Romance Remix.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame it on the Alligator

## Blame it on the Alligator

#### by ainm

Author's website: <http://www.geocities.com/ainm66/TS>  
Not mine, making no money, intending no copyright infringement.  
Thanks to Sara for the last-minute read-through!  
This fic is remixed from Paula C's story "Blame it on the Meds," done as part of "Remix Redux IV: I Know What You Did Last Remix" (http://remix.illuminatedtext.com/).  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

He thought that maybe he was dreaming... the scene was fuzzy around the edges, like a film flashback. But on the other hand, some images were incredibly clear -- like the alligator nibbling on his left ankle. 

Blair wasn't sure why there wasn't blood everywhere -- it hurt like a bitch, but the alligator was being very delicate, clamping down hard but not quite breaking the skin. He didn't know they could do that. 

"Blair." It was Jim's voice, low and concerned, though he couldn't see him. Blair took his eyes off the gator and looked around to find his partner. 

Unfortunately, Blair and the alligator noticed Jim at the same time. The big reptile unclenched his jaws and slowly headed for Jim. 

He could understand why -- Jim certainly looked juicier than he did... Blair would love to nibble that gorgeous body himself. Yeah -- if anyone was going to be nibbling on his partner, it was going to be _him_ . The alligator could go find his own buff sentinel, and leave his alone. 

Blair tried to run after the alligator, but he found himself immobile -- the throbbing in his gator-gnawed ankle combined with a bone-deep lethargy that he couldn't overcome. But the alligator was just a hair's breadth from Jim now, and Jim wasn't even watching the gator, he was staring at Blair. 

"Jim! The alligator!" he cried, hoping desperately to get either Jim to see the gator or the gator to turn back toward _him_... 

* * *

"Jim! The alligator!" 

The alarm in Blair's voice was so convincing that Jim automatically scanned the room, even as he realized he was being ridiculous. It was good to hear Blair's voice though, even if he wasn't making any sense. 

"Hey, Chief, how're you doing?" Jim touched Blair's arm, gently so as not to alarm him further, but firmly enough to assure his partner that he was with him. 

Looking at Blair's eyes dart around the room, searching but unfocused, Jim wandered if he was even awake at all. 

"Jim. Jim!" 

Jim squeezed Blair's shoulder, concerned. "It's OK, Sandburg, I'm right here." Blair's eyes finally turned toward him, and seemed to actually see him for the first time. 

"Jim," he said again, this time with a sigh of relief. 

Jim was about to ask him if he knew where he was, but Blair's next words forestalled him. 

"The alligator didn't get you, then," he said, more an observation than a question. "That's good... no one gets to gnaw on you but me..." His eyes closed again. 

A multitude of thoughts tumbled over one another in Jim's mind. The loudest ones were "OK, he's definitely hallucinating" and "he wants to gnaw on me?!?" 

He also realized that Blair's temp was up again, way up, and he kicked himself for not noticing sooner. Yeah, he was tired, but that was no excuse under the circumstances. 

He knew he should buzz the nurse immediately, but he was compelled to try to get Blair to explain the gnawing idea. Was that "I want to chew you up and spit you out, you arrogant SOB," or more along the lines of "I want my mouth on every inch of your body"? 

Jim had to know. But he couldn't bring himself to ask outright. "What alligator, Blair?" 

"The one that was chewing my ankle, of course." 

_Of course_ , Jim thought with the first real amusement he'd felt in several days. 

He saw Blair try to look down at his ankle, but it was covered by a sheet and a light blanket. Jim could see the signs of frustration and agitation that Blair was beginning to show, and quickly hit the call button. 

"Don't worry, Chief, your ankle is going to be just fine." 

Blair relaxed slightly, sinking back into the pillow. Jim began to stroke his arm slowly, trying to will his friend to be calm. He jerked his hand back when the nurse on duty came into the room, though. 

"His fever is spiking again," he told the briskly efficient, middle-aged nurse. She gave him a brief nod and went about checking Blair's temp and other vitals. 

Finally she turned and spoke to Jim, who had reluctantly pulled his chair back from the edge of the bed to give her better access to her patient, though he kept his gaze firmly trained on said patient. 

"It's not dangerously high, and he's already on enough meds for the fever and the pain that the doctor left word that he'd rather not increase the dosage if we can help it, so I think it's best if we try to control it through other means." 

"Other means?" Jim frowned at the at the sound of the worry and concern in his voice -- especially since he had some medical training and knew that the fever wasn't critical and no particular cause for alarm, at least in the context of what else was going on. 

"Nothing dramatic, just cool compresses to keep it from rising further." She gave Jim just a hint of an odd look. "I'm assuming you can take care of that?" 

"Of course." He said it without looking at her, and she headed for the door. 

The nurse returned shortly with several small cloths, a bowl of cool water, and a cup of ice to add to keep the water cool. Jim's eyes remained fixed on Blair as she set it all down on the small rolling table. 

As he wet a cloth, rung it out, and began to gently sponge Blair's face, the nurse's look finally softened. 

"You let me know if you need anything," she told Jim quietly, and smiled at his distracted nod. 

Not wanting to shock Blair's system by overcooling any one part of his body, Jim soon moved from Blair's face and began dragging the compress lightly down his arms. Lost in thoughts of guilt and Blair, Jim was surprised when Blair's hand suddenly grabbed his arm. 

"Jim?" he asked quietly, as if he was coming only partially out of sleep to speak. 

"Right here, Chief." 

"Stay?" Blair's eyes, barely open to begin with, were already closing again. 

"I'm staying, don't worry." 

"... be here when I wake up..." Blair mumbled as he slipped farther down into slumber. 

"I promise," Jim said through a throat tightened with emotion. "I'm not leaving until you do, and I won't let anything happen to you." 

"... good... need you..." Blair slurred before sleep finally overcame him once more, leaving Jim to wonder just what sort of need Blair had meant... 

* * *

"You look like shit," Blair observed in a voice that felt surprisingly rusty. 

As Jim lifted his head from the back of the chair where he had been dozing, Blair realized something else. 

"And I _feel_ like shit." 

Having regained the power of speech, Jim smiled, and said, "Well, it's not surprising under the circumstances." 

"What circumstances?" Pulling his focus off Jim, Blair finally took note of his surroundings. "Hospital?" 

Jim just laughed softly, ruefully -- it wasn't as if Blair really needed an answer. He'd been in and out of plenty of hospitals -- both as a patient and as a visitor -- since he'd been riding with Jim that he'd certainly learned the ropes. 

As he gathered his wits about him, Blair realized he'd have to do some quick shuffling of his schedule. 

As he reached for the phone at the bedside to his left, wary of the IV on the right, the movement triggered a coughing fit that had him pressing a hand to his chest in an instinctive but ineffectual attempt to stop the raw ache. 

Trying to escape the pain, Blair reflexively startled to curl up on his side, but as his right foot bumped his left, a shooting pain raced from his foot all the way up to his head -- he felt like his hair was standing on end, but at least it chased away the cough. 

As he began to regain his breath, he became aware of Jim murmuring to him. "It's OK, Blair -- try to relax -- lay back flat, OK? -- you'll be OK, don't worry," a running commentary of comfort. 

So. Not only did just about every part of his body hurt, but Jim was calling him Blair and telling him he'd be just fine (but not sounding like he believed it ) and holding tight to his hand. _Not good at all_ , Blair thought. 

"What the hell happened to me?!" 

"Well... where do you want me to start?" Jim hedged. 

"Start?! You can start by giving me the phone." Snippy? Well, yeah, but Blair figured he was entitled. And snippy was better than flat-out hysterical... 

"Why do you want the phone, Chief?" The look Jim gave him made him nervous, but he pushed the feeling aside. 

"I've got to rearrange my schedule, maybe postpone tonight's study session 'til tomorrow, and get someone to cover my morning lecture, assuming I've got to stay the night -- do I have to stay the night?" 

"Um, Blair?" 

Jim's sheepish look brought back the feeling of nervousness and added a shot of annoyance to it. 

"Um, Jim?" he shot back. 

"Blair... I think you might have lost track of just how long you've been in here." 

Blair's breath caught. "What?" he asked slowly. 

"Well, what day do you think this is?" 

"Tuesday afternoon. Right?" He had a feeling he wasn't going to like Jim's response. 

Jim sighed, and picked back up the hand that he had let go of along the way. Blair wasn't sure if the gesture was supposed to be calming or what, but calming was _not_ the effect it had on him. His feeling of dread increased, but it was tempered by the guilty pleasure he always felt when Jim touched him, however casually. 

"Come on, man, just tell me, whatever it is, OK?" Blair spoke more calmly than before -- it was hard to stay snippy when Jim was holding your hand. 

His partner sighed again. 

"It's about 4:00 pm on Thursday afternoon." 

Forget calm, calm had left the building. 

"*Thursday?!? * How long have I been in here? Why don't I remember? And what the hell _happened_ to me?!" 

Unfortunately, the yelling triggered another coughing attack. Jim dropped his hand again, to fill a glass with water from the plastic pitcher on the table. 

"Come on, Chief, just try to calm down a little -- it will help the cough subside, OK?" 

Interspersing calming breaths -- not too deep or a cough would follow -- and sips of water, Blair finally got himself under control, both physically and mentally. 

"OK, Jim, take it from the top." 

He had to smile as Jim heaved another big sigh. 

"Well, I'm not sure how far back you remember, but I'm sure you remember that you had the flu?" 

"Right -- but it was getting better, I was fine." 

"It wasn't getting better, it was progressing into pneumonia because you wouldn't take it easy." 

"Pneumonia?" 

"Yes, and that's a part of why you're in here." 

"A part?" 

"Stop interrupting and you'd get the whole story," Jim chided with a smile. 

"Do you remember being at Hargrove Tuesday afternoon?" he continued. 

"Yeah... I had office hours, but then I had to rush to pick something up at the library so that I could get home to grade a couple of extra-credit essays and fix some dinner before the study group -- oh, study group!" 

"Don't worry, Chief, it's taken care of. Do you remember leaving the building that afternoon?" 

"Hmm... I'm not sure. I remember deciding to go out the side door because I'd parked in an odd spot today -- um, that day -- and I remember getting to the door... that's all though." He gave a hmph of exasperation. "Why can't I remember? It's frustrating!" 

"Well, it's probably for the best that you don't remember, really. Apparently you lost your footing on some ice at the top of the stairs, and banged yourself up pretty good on the way to the bottom." 

Blair grunted, but didn't say anything. 

"Unfortunately, your choice of the most obscure exit meant that no one saw you for a while, so in addition to a few scrapes, some slight bruising of the ribs on your right side, a pretty solid whack on the head, and a hairline fracture of your left ankle, you also lay in a rather... uncomfortable position in the cold until an undergrad found you and called 911. But it could have been worse..." 

Blair just raised an eyebrow. 

"Well, you didn't get a concussion with the head injury, you didn't break your ribs, and the ankle fracture is of only one bone and you don't even need a cast, you're one of the rare cases that can be dealt with just like a bad sprain." 

"Thanks for looking on the bright side, Jim." Blair just had to chuckle. 

"So does that bring any memories up?" 

"Well... I think I remember going out the door and it being very sunny and bright out there, and... I don't know, I think I got dizzy..." 

"Ah, that would help explain the fall -- you're fever was pretty high when you got here, from the pneumonia and the exposure, and we weren't sure if you might have blacked out before you fell rather than just slipping." 

"*Fab*ulous. But if that was 2 days ago, why can't I remember anything since the stairs? Don't tell me I was in a coma." 

He scowled at Jim as he were responsible, but Jim just smiled and took it in stride. 

"No, no coma, don't worry." 

"Amnesia?" 

"No," Jim laughed, "no amnesia either." 

"Well then what?" 

"You took a nasty fall, Chief. It's common to either black out while it's happening, or just block the experience so that it doesn't make it to long-term memory. And for the past few days, you've been on a lot of meds for the fever and the pain and the pneumonia, so you've been in something of a haze between the meds and the fever." 

"You sound very authoritative, but how do you know?" 

"Well, I've been around the block a few times, you know." The wider Jim's grin got, the more peeved Blair got, and Jim must have caught the look on his face. "But I also asked the doctor, because each time you woke up, you either didn't remember what happened or you just plain didn't make sense." 

"Hmph." 

Jim patted his arm. "Really, you're going to be fine. Gave me a scare, but it will all work out." 

"So speaking of out, when do I get to _get_ out? Tonight?" 

"I doubt it, but I bet we'll be able to spring you tomorrow. Now that you're awake for real, they should be able to get you off the IV. You're not going to fuss about eating and drinking, are you?" 

"Hell no, man, I'm starving!" 

"I'll let the nurse know the good news," Jim said, flashing him _that_ smile, the one that made everyone from matronly ladies to nurses to anthropology grad students just melt and jump to do his bidding. Blair thought that that smile would probably do more for his recovery than hospital food and a cocktail of meds. 

* * *

The futon wasn't really conducive to a pain-free sleep with all his various injuries. Jim had offered him his bigger, comfier bed, but they'd decided that going up the stairs wouldn't be worth it. Blair didn't mention the fact that he really didn't want to be sleeping in Jim's bed sans Jim... 

Jim had declared that Blair had to go to bed early. Ridiculously early, in Blair's opinions, but he didn't have the energy to argue. But with all the sleeping and resting he'd been doing for the past four days, and the ache in his chest and the throbbing in his ankle, and the early hour, and the sound of Jim puttering around trying to clean things that he hadn't even been around to dirty, well, sleep just didn't seem to be on the agenda. 

Unfortunately, daydreaming about Jim was. Blair couldn't stop thinking about how great Jim had been through the whole ordeal... always there at the hospital (Jim had said that Simon gave him the time off without a second thought, but Blair still didn't know how Jim had showered), never grousing about helping him or the fact that Blair had admittedly been something of a cranky jerk to him... It made him feel so... warm, happy... loved... 

He tried to keep hold of that feeling, rather than let it turn into the bittersweet melancholy that it so often did, thinking that next thought of how even if Jim was close to him as a friend, it wouldn't ever become what Blair was hoping for. 

Blair didn't quite fall asleep, but he was definitely dozing in that place between sleep and awareness. He let the images of the past few days wash over him, so that he could accept them and move on. 

A rather bizarre picture came to him as he drifted in the darkness. It almost seemed as if it were real, but of course it couldn't be, because -- "An alligator?!" 

As soon as the words unexpectedly left his lips, he knew that he might as well have called Jim's name -- and sure enough, only seconds passed before Jim was there, pushing the door open slightly and calling through. 

"You alright, Chief?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine, no problem." Blair wasn't sure he wanted Jim to come in and check on him, in the dark, with him clad only in boxers and some Ace bandages... 

"Did you have a nightmare?" 

"No, I wasn't even asleep, I just... I'm not sure it was a memory or just a dream -- I mean, a memory of a dream, not that it could actually have happened, because hey, alligators in Cascade?" 

"Alligators?" Jim pushed the door open and came to stand just inside. 

With the light from the living room shining in behind him, Blair could just make out the oddly intent look on Jim's face. He sat up against a pillow and watched Jim somewhat warily. 

"Yeah, I guess I had a dream about an alligator sometime this week..." Blair trailed off as more of the scenario came to him. 

"You did, um, mention something about an alligator one night when your fever spiked -- I was... curious about what you meant." He moved a little closer to the futon. 

"Hmm, the alligator was chomping my leg, but there wasn't any blood..." he mused as he remembered. 

"Right, you said that the alligator, um, was, um, gnawing your leg..." 

With that, Jim sat on the edge of the mattress. Blair's breath caught for an instant, and he tried to pull himself together and concentrate on the dream. 

"Right. It all seemed so vivid, and the pain seemed so real -- oh, yeah, I guess it _was_ real." 

It was hard to see his face in the dimness of the room, but Blair could almost _feel_ Jim smile. 

"And then I could hear your voice, and it seemed very real too..." 

"Actually, it probably was," Jim told him. "I could tell you were starting to have some sort of bad dream, or hallucination -- even though you seemed asleep, you were opening your eyes briefly. Anyway, I was calling to you to try to get you either to wake up or at least slip into a better dream." 

It was Blair's turn to smile, at the further proof of how well Jim had been looking after him. He knew Jim cared about him, but he wasn't usually so... gentle with him. 

"At first I could only hear you saying my name," Blair continued, "but then you were there, and it started to go after you..." 

"So that's why you warned me about the alligator." 

"What? How could I warn you if I was sleeping?" 

"I think that's when you woke up. 'Jim! The alligator!' you said." 

"Right... and --" 

All of a sudden it all came back to him, everything he'd said, everything that Jim had said... _Oh my god, did I really tell him I wanted to gnaw on him?! I don't know what's worse -- giving myself away or saying something that stupid!_

"And?" Jim prompted when Blair didn't continue. 

"Um, nothing. That's all I remember." 

"Are you sure? You don't remember anything else?" 

His tone was intense enough to make Blair worried. Had Jim really heard him? Had he understood the implications? 

If so, it didn't seem to have bothered him -- he had still been wonderful to him even after his comment. Did that mean he hadn't interpreted it correctly? Or not heard him at all? Jim had incredible hearing, _of course_ he'd heard him. Either way, why was he so intent on hearing what Blair remembered? Maybe he was waiting for Blair to further incriminate himself before he threw him out... or maybe, just maybe, he'd understood and been happy about it? _Don't go there_ , Blair told himself. 

"No, nothing else." 

Apparently he'd paused too long before replying, and Jim was skeptical of his answer, because he leaned forward, far enough into his personal space that Blair felt even more self-conscious than he already had. Having Jim's full attention on him, while he was only a foot away from Blair's naked chest -- it was a wonder he could think at all. 

"Well, _I_ remember what you said," Jim told him in a voice that had gone husky and soft. 

Blair swallowed, a bit more noisily than he would have preferred. "Well, I'm sure I wasn't making any sense. I mean, I was hallucinating and drugged out, after all." 

"I don't know whether you knew what you said, or whether you meant what you said, or whether..." Jim put a hand on his leg, and even through the duvet Blair thought he could feel the touch branding him. "...you meant what I hoped you meant..." 

Blair let out the breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. He had to know. But he couldn't bring himself to ask outright. 

"What did I say, Jim?" he asked softly. 

"You were pleased that the alligator hadn't gotten me, and you expressed some... territoriality over it." 

He didn't think that Jim had moved, but somehow he seemed even closer now. Blair's mind was racing so fast that he couldn't even keep up with the thoughts. 

"I, um... you can blame it on the meds?" It was supposed to be a statement, but it came out like a question, a squeaky question at that. 

"I could. I could blame it on the meds, I could blame it on the fever, I could blame it on the head injury, I could even blame it on the damned alligator." This time Jim really did move closer, his whole body angled on so that he was looking Blair directly in the eye. "But I'd rather not have to blame it on anything." 

Blair gaped at him. 

"Did you mean it, Blair?" The hand that Jim had been resting on Blair's leg came up and touched the side of his neck, then trailed down to his shoulder, ending with a light squeeze. 

The gesture was unmistakable, and suddenly Blair realized that Jim wouldn't have taken it this far if he weren't serious. Jim might be gruff sometimes, but he was honorable, and there was no way that he would try to trap Blair like this, offering and then taking himself away. 

For once Blair had no words to express what his heart was telling him, and he just nodded. 

The relief between them was palpable. "I'd say that I want to be the only one who gnaws on _you_ , but that would just be too corny," Jim laughed. "But you get the idea, right?" 

"Oh I get the idea -- such ideas I get, you could scarcely imagine." 

"Don't be too sure about that, Chief -- I've had a long time to imagine." 

"Me too, Jim. Years." 

"Yeah," Jim agreed, and then leaned in those final few inches. 

Their lips touched lightly, and Blair felt almost light-headed, as if he were having a relapse of the flu. That idea struck him so funny that he unconsciously opened his mouth to laugh, but when Jim's tongue took the opportunity to slide inside, all thoughts of humor or the flu were wiped away. 

It was an awkward first kiss, thanks to Blair's injuries and the way they were squished with Jim falling half off the futon, but that couldn't have mattered less. It was beautiful and hot and full of promise, and when Jim pulled Blair close to him and there was only the thickness of a single shirt separating their skin, Blair thought that this was perhaps the happiest that he'd ever been. 

They continued to kiss each other, slowly but passionately, and Jim's hands roamed over all the parts of Blair that were exposed while Blair wasn't really able to reciprocate -- yet. But fatigue finally set in, and recognizing that, Jim gave him one last hard kiss, then pulled away. 

"We'll have plenty of time later, OK? But I need you to get some rest now," Jim told him. 

"So how long do you think it will take for my ankle to be able to handle those stairs?" Blair asked with a smile in his voice. 

Jim laughed softly. "I don't know, Chief -- but I do know I can hardly wait." 

Blair laughed, and reached up to bring Jim's head down into kissing range. 

Once again, Jim was the one to break away -- he'd always had better self-control than Blair, after all. He got up stiffly from the futon and headed for the door. 

"You try and get some sleep, OK?" Jim told him. "I'd like to think you have incentive to get yourself better now, hmm?" When he got to the door, he stopped and called over his shoulder. "And Chief? Thank the alligator for me." 

* * *

End 

Blame it on the Alligator by ainm: ainm@livejournal.com  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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